Fray to Him when all 's still,
Performing his will.
And so shall the angel of peace be thy warden,
And guide thee at last to the heavenly garden.
HYMN.
Almighty ! what is man ?
But flesh and blood.
Like slwiows flee his days,
He marks not how they vanish from his gaze,
Suddenly, he must die —
He droppeth, stunned, into nonentity.
Almighty ! what is man ?
A body frail and weak,
Full of deceit and lies.
Of vUe hypocrisies.
Now like a flower blowing,
Now scorched by sunbeams glowing.
And wilt thou of his trespasses inquire ?
How may he ever bear
Thine anger just, thy vengeance dire ?
Punish him not, but spare.
For he is void of power and strength !
Almighty ! what is man ?
By filthy lust possessed.
Whirled in a round of lies.
Fond frenzy swells his breast.
The pure man sinks in mire and slime.
